Maybe I need to worry about Thursday the 12th rather than Friday the 13th? Yesterday, the boys had woken up and were playing on our bed before we went to the kitchen to get breakfast. At one point, they both were laying down (so cute, H's toes at W's head), so I decided to snap a picture and stood up on the bed. The next thing I know I am hit in the head - by the ceiling fan! It's okay to laugh; I am a goof ball. It hurt, though, still does. Being the hypochondriac that I am, I really want to go to the doctor. I am sore from my neck to my ear. My husband assures me that, "You got hit in the head by a ceiling fan, you're going to be sore." I still got my picture of the boys, and it is cute (although it would probably be cuter if it hadn't cost me a very sore head and neck).
Next bad thing, I got the wrong change at the drive through. I was so busy checking that they gave us the correct food, I didn't look at the bills. Then, I had to park the car, unload the boys, and go inside to ask for my $10.00. Fortunately, they were nice about it.
Finally, I get us all home to eat lunch. While changing H's clothes, W whacks me across the head with a toy broom handle (luckily not in the same spot the ceiling fan clobbered). I call C, almost in tears, and he laughs and not just a chuckle or for a second. He laughs for like a minute, and although I do see the comic aspect of my misfortunes, I really was looking for some sympathy. I must say in C's defense that this was not my first run in with a ceiling fan, although this one is much more painful (go ahead, laugh again). So, considering my 12th, I am not planning to go anywhere or do much of anything today!